


Paved with Good Intentions

by Katy133



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Death References, Demonic Possession, Gen, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katy133/pseuds/Katy133
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sock and Jonathan make a demon deal, Jonathan realizes he needs to do a test at school, and after Jonathan almost gets into an accident, Sock becomes obsessed with making sure Jonathan doesn’t die from any other cause except his own. Meanwhile, Sock learns how to manifest object and animals… but can he possess humans too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> A bunch of drabbles lightly strung together. In six parts. I really wanted to play around with an idea I had based on Erica’s artwork about Possessed!Jonathan.

_“I saw a man this morning  
Who did not wish to die.” _ \- P.S. Stewart

.

“Would you kill yourself if a cute kitten told you to?” mewed Sock.

Sock, after much practice, had finally figured out how to possess small animals. At this moment, Sock had possessed a feline and was rubbing against Jonathan’s legs on the sidewalk, purring softly. Not really a kitten, like Sock implied; more like an oldish cat. It was orange with stripes, vaguely similar to Sock’s hair colour. If you gave the cat a silly hat and wrapped it with a woolly scarf, it would have been the spitting image of Sock.

Jonathan had been trying to ignore Sock while waiting for the bus.

“No...” was his only reply.

He really hoped that no one would walk by and see him there. Not because Sock was a talking cat (even as a cat, Jonathan was sure no one else could hear him), but because Sock began to rub his new feline face into Jonathan’s leg more aggressively. Jonathan put a hand to his brow. Anyone walking past this scene would have assumed that Jon had extra-dose catnip in his trousers. Jon tried to retaliate by giving Sock a glare, but to no avail.

“Pick me up! Meow!”

Sock noticed Jon turn up the volume on his headphones.

“Nope... And leave that cat alone.” His voice became louder, albeit possibly from turning up the volume to his music, so Sock phased out of the cat’s body.

The cat, frightened, scrambled away from the area. Jon watched it sprint away into a nearby garden.

“Well,” said Sock, straightening his yellow goggles, “Yesterday I manifested objects. Today, I can control animals. So now the next logical step would be... possessing humans.”

Jonathan turned to look at Sock. Jon’s eyes no longer half-lidded. They were wide with apprehension.

Sock smiled. Even though Sock wasn’t a cat anymore, Jon noticed that Sock could still smile like one.

“Now I’ll possess you.” said Sock.

Jon’s eyes went back to being half-closed. He turned to look at the road. “You’re not going to.” He wasn’t giving an order. He just said it matter-of-factly.

“Like you have any say in it.” replied Sock.

“Look, I don’t exactly have the best scripture knowledge, but I’m pretty sure demons need some kind of ‘consent’ to control people. Even with the cat, you had to coax it.”

Jonathan was right. The cat seemed to sense the invisible demon--perhaps using animal instincts--and seemed to like him. Sock liked moggies. Even when Sock was alive, wild animals and pets seemed at ease around him.

Until he killed them, of course.

Sock began to beg. “Then please, Jonathan, let me. Just this once? Just let me pos-”

“No. What would you even do, anyway?”

Sock shrugged. “I’d probably just goof off. Make you do embarrassing stuff in front of everyone. Do a funny dance. Nothing you can’t handle. Everyone thinks you’re crazy anyway.” Sock adjusted his the knot in his unnecessarily-long scarf. He quickly looked back up at Jonathan and added, “I promise I won’t kill anyone while I’m controlling you!”

He shouldn’t have said that.

He _really_ shouldn’t have said that.

Newton’s Third Law of Conversation (if such a thing existed) would dictate that for every statement, there is equal and opposite subtext. So, by adding the part about not killing someone, Sock only strengthened the idea in Jonathan’s mind that he would.

“Yeah, right. Just leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t do that,” smiled Sock. “It’s my job.”

Jonathan turned back to staring at the road. He turned up the volume on his headphones again, leaving a long, awkward silence for Sock.

Sock decided that he might as well try. He braced himself. He finally was going to possess his human counterpart.

Sock floated up to Jonathan and phased phased through him, like he had done with the cat. He floated and moved until his entire body was inside Jonathan, much to Jon’s annoyance.

It had no effect. Jonathan was still sound in mind and in complete control of himself.

Correction, it did have an effect on Jonathan: It just miffed him off more.

Jon side-stepped away from Sock.

“Come on! At least try to help me!” Sock said.

Jon scowled. “I’m not letting you possess me.”

“Please. Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

“But we are friends, right? Friends trust each other.”

“No. We’re not.”

Sock looked genuinely disappointed. “Why?”

“ _Why?!_ I mean, help me out here,” said Jonathan, starting to get louder again. He gestured towards the bus stop sign. “You appear out of the blue, annoying me, ruining my life, making everyone at school stay away from me, all while trying to convince me to off myself. And now I'm supposed to be your friend because of what? Because you asked nicely? Because you have a nice face?”

Sock couldn't help himself. He should have helped himself, he knew, but he just couldn't.

“Why not?” he shrugged, and tried to look charming. “I'd do anything _you_ say if you flashed me a smile.”

Terrible mistake. Really terrible. Jonathan turned to Sock, suddenly very angry.

“You can drop that shit right now.”

“All I meant…” Sock said, but he was slightly glad when Jonathan cut him off, because he’d honestly didn't know what he'd meant.

“I said drop it. I’m not dead. Living people can’t be friends with demons.”

Sock nodded, guiltily, and he bowed his head, as if paying his respects to the road (if roads could die, which they can’t).

In the distance, Jonathan could see the bus approaching.

…

The principal of Black Sheep High turned back to the science teacher. “You say Mr. Combs held a lighted _Bunsen burner_ to your bott--to your lowerer back?”

“Deliberately.” replied the science teacher.

Jonathan was in the principal’s office. Sock was floating next to him, laughing. Jon shot him an angry look, though he didn’t dare say anything to Sock in front of the two educators.

Sock shut up.

“And you’re quite certain this had nothing to do with the science experiment the class was engaged in?”

“Nothing whatsoever,” she replied sternly. Her old eyes gleamed vindictively at Jonathan.

Jonathan just stared blankly at her. He had already said that he didn’t do it. That it was an accident. He decided he would just let the two academics talk it out by themselves.

The principal, who obviously had other things on her mind, seemed to only just notice that the teacher was the only one in the room standing.

“Please, sit down.” said the principal.

“I can’t.”

“Oh, right, of course.”

Sock began to giggle. Jon ignored him.

“Jonathan Combs is a usually quiet, introverted boy from a good family. Until recently, he hasn’t had to see this office for any incidents...”

Jonathan’s eyes became even more jaded than usual. _‘Until recently’_. As in, until Sock crept into his life, he’d had a clean record with the school.

The principal had trailed off into a dull lecture.“...You remember that speech I gave at last month’s Teachers’ Conference? About earning students’ respect?”

The principal basically began to put the whole situation down to the old ‘boys will be boys’ cliche. Both adults were so busy that Jonathan took this chance to give Sock another death glare. Sock just gave a bemused shrug.

This had all been Sock’s fault. During science class, the teacher walked past the burner on Jon’s desk, so Sock saw an open opportunity, and seized it. Using his newly-found powers of object manipulation, he stuck an incorporeal hand into the burner, turned it on to full-blast, and, then, well...

The principal was still talking. “...It seems like you’re legitimately disappointed with with your class' behavior, but shouldn't you be used to this by now? You’re not a student teacher anymore. You haven’t just started teaching last week. Learn to be more authoritative and the kids will respect you more,” the principal said.

The science teacher nodded, possibly thinking something along the lines of, _‘And what about my roasted bottom?’_

Jonathan wondered how they could be talking as if he wasn’t in the room. If only he could learn to ignore Sock like that.

The principal picked up a sheaf of papers on her desk and began to read them. The discussion seemed to be over.

Jonathan hoped that he would just be let off with a warning. Sock began to look bored and disappointed. What had started with fire and demon magic had seemingly ended with an anti-climax. The science teacher tapped acid-stain fingers on the office desk, impatiently.

“Then, this boy,” she said, gesturing a hand towards Jonathan, “is not going to be punished for trying to set fire to my backsi--to me.

The principal looked up from her papers.

“Punished? Well, if you’re absolutely certain that his actions were intentional, then give him after-school detention.”

“Yes!” yelled Sock, punching a fist into the air.

…

After detention for the science class incident, Jonathan left the school. He started walking home after a long bus ride. His demon counterpart followed right behind him, giving Jon a friendly reminder that if he killed himself, he wouldn’t have to deal with detentions ever again.

The teacher had given him a lecture. What the principal had left out in lecturing to him (she has been pretty easy on him in terms of punishment, considering), the teacher more than made up for.

“You’re in grade 11, Jonathan, so you should act like you’re in grade 11,” she said, which Jonathan saw as pretty bad advice, since, if the Bunsen burner event was his work (which it wasn’t), then that's exactly what he was doing.

So Jonathan just said the usual stuff. About being sorry, he won’t do it again, and he didn’t know what he was thinking. That kind of thing.

“You have to admit, it was funny.” smiled Sock. He floated up next to Jonathan.

Jonathan made no reply, though he must have heard Sock, because his headphones were off.

“Oh, come on, Jonathan. Not even the _tiniest_ bit funny?” Sock measured an inch with his fingers.

Still no reply.

“You’re laughing on the inside,” said Sock.

“No, I’m not.”

Sock may have been right, just a little bit, but Jonathan sure as Hell wasn’t going to admit it.

...

After five o’clock, which was the end of his shift, Sock left Jonathan to go back to the underworld.

Sock didn’t have anyone to really chat with in the Hell (other than Mephistopheles, but he was usually busy with the renovations), so he was in no hurry to get there, giving him plenty of time for reflection on the day's business.

Despite how wonderfully his plan had worked in science class, Sock was still upset about not being able to possess Jonathan. Sock wondered if he ever would be able to.

The one thing that also stayed in his mind, as he floated through the red portals and tunnels to Hell, was Jon telling him to drop ‘that shit’ about them being friends. And the reason Sock had to drop it was because Jonathan was still a living human being.

 _The Third Law of Conversation_ , Sock thought to himself. The implication was that he could have kept on holding that shit, that they _could_ be friends, if Jonathan was dead.

That cheered him up. He started to think that if he couldn't work things out so that, one day, he and Jon would be standing in front of each other, both dead, then his name wasn't Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski.

Which, of course, it was.


	2. Deal

_“You know that_ ‘The Flintstones’ _is only_ partly _based on fact? Dinosaurs and man did not coexist. Dinosaurs had long gone before man arrived. Extinct, kaput. What, you don’t believe us?”_ \- Stephen Merchant

.

“Knock-knock.” said Sock.

Jonathan was reading from a heavy-looking hardback book in his bedroom. He sat at the edge of his bed, while Sock was floating next to him.

Sock began to jump on Jonathan’s bed like a little kid. Since Sock was incorporeal, his jumping didn’t cause the bed springs to squeak, or the mattress to move, but to Sock, it was still just as fun as jumping on a bed when he was alive. He just kept talking as he jumped.

“Knock-knock! Knock-knock! Kn-”

“Who’s there?” Jonathan finally grumbled. He hoped that if he let Sock tell his joke, Sock would leave him alone and let him finish reading. Even for a minute or two. Anything for a relief.

“Knock-knock!” said Sock.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. Sock obviously hadn’t heard him. _Was this boy for real?_ thought Jon.

“I just said, ‘Who’s there?’” repeated the teen.

“Oh, right!” Sock blinked in surprise. “Um… Boo!”

“‘Boo’ who?”

“Hush now, don’t cry!”

Sock began to laugh. He was almost cry-laughing. Jonathan just stared at him like he was an idiot.

After Sock found himself again, he looked at the object in Jonathan’s hands. “Whatcha reading?”

Jonathan didn’t even bother answering. He just held up his book higher so Sock could read the cover himself.

Sock looked. It was a textbook on math, with the usual image of an abstract fractal design on the cover. Because nothing says ‘fun with math’ more than that.

“Any good?” Sock inquired.

“This sentence I’ve been reading for the last ten minutes is great so far.” said Jonathan in a monotone voice.

Sock didn’t seem to take the hint, because he replied with, “You sure it’s more fun than dying?”

Jonathan ignored him, getting up and sitting down at his desk across the room. Sock just followed him. He sat down on the floor next to the desk, and looked up at Jonathan with green, hopeful eyes. Jon kept trying to read the book. He felt like the guy from _The Da Vinci Code_ , trying to make sense of the complicated text.

“Knock-knock.” said Sock, hovering above Jon. This time, Sock even mimed knocking on a non-existent door with his knuckles.

Jonathan sighed and closed his textbook with a loud thud. So much for studying.

“Who the hell is it this time?” he snapped.

That stopped Sock short.

He floated down to prop his elbows on Jonathan’s desk.

“Jonathan, I’m not saying I’m Sherlock or anything, but... You sound bored to me.”

“You never cease to astonish me, Holmes.” replied Jonathan dryly.

“You are talking to a demon! Pay attention! Aren’t you even a little bit scared?”

“I’ve gotten used to seeing you. And you’re not scary. Just annoying.”

“But I _am_ scary!”

“You just suck at your job.” said Jonathan.

That did it for Sock.

The little demon just looked at the blond teen with the most upset expression on his face. Jonathan wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel sorry for him.

“I… I’m scary!” Socky floated up. His shoulders were hunched up and his hands were clenched into fists.

Jon’s deadpan expression told Sock that he still wasn’t buying it. After a brief moment of silence, Jonathan went back to reading his math book.

“I-I bet I can scare you the next time I walk through this wall.” said Sock, pointing towards the wall opposite Jonathan’s desk.

Jonathan looked up from his math textbook. He seemed interested, and Sock beamed at the thought of this.

“How much?” asked Jonathan, raising an eyebrow.

“I bet your life!” yelled Sock with a grin.

“No.”

“What’s the matter? Scared I’ll win?”

“I’m not an idiot. There’s no way I’ll bet my life on anything.” said Jonathan.

“Thirty bucks then!” Sock yelled. “Deal?”

Jonathan thought for a moment. He had the money, and he could always use more.

“You’re a demon. What would you even _do_ with money, anyway?”

Sock shrugged. Jonathan guessed that that was the only answer he was going to get.

“So… You’re serious about this, then?” said Jon.

“Yeah...”

Jonathan considered this for a moment.

“How about this,” said Jon slowly, making sure to word it all properly. “If you can scare me the next time you enter this room, I’ll give you thirty dollars, and I’ll pay undivided attention to you for the rest of the day. If you can’t, _you_ have to give _me_ thirty dollars and leave me alone for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Sock. “Deal!”

“Deal!”

There was a sudden ‘thump’ sound from Sock and Jonathan. Not really even a real sound, more like a feeling. It seemed to have come from within the depths of their souls and vibrate through their bones (even Sock’s _incorporeal_ bones). The feeling felt small and subtle, yet huge and unmistakable.

It gave both the boys a chilling sensation.

It took them a moment to realise what had just happened.

“Did we just- Did I just make a deal with a demon?” said Jonathan. He had no idea just saying ‘deal’ could or would do that.

Sock was, at first, just as surprised as Jonathan, but quickly shrugged it off. “Well, I guess that means we can’t undo it.” he smiled.

Jon just sat dumbfounded at his desk, silently thanking his good sense to not bet anything he wasn’t unwilling to give up.

“Okay,” said Sock with an exciting grin. “I’ll go and get ready. You stay here and get ready for the scariest moment of your life so far.”

Sock quickly floated up and dived through the floor like a swimmer at a springboard.

Sock was now in the kitchen of Jonathan’s house. He thought of all the scary movies he’d seen in his lifetime. And others he’d only recently seen in his _afterlifetime_ with Jonathan after school.

But what could he do to scare Jonathan?

He thought about quickly nipping Downstairs and asking for advice from some of his demon colleagues. But he felt like that would be semi-cheating and unsportsmanlike to get outside help. A lot of the other demons were jerks anyway.

He decided to try and scare Jonathan the old-fashioned way: Via a good old jump scare.

Sock drifted to the downstairs bathroom. He needed to find a mirror, and just hope that he could see himself in it. Luckily, he could.

Sock looked at himself in the large, framed mirror above the sink. Sock drank it all in: The star-spangled hat, the blood-red scarf, the blue shirt, the tan vest with yellow pockets, the skirt, ripped jeans, the goggles, and- seriously, did Sock just steal every eccentric article of clothing from a jumble of rummage sale rejects or what?

After admiring his apparellel, Sock realised that scaring Jonathan would have been so much easier if he had his knife. On the one hand, ear-flapped hats, purple skirts, and striped socks made you look less like a suspicious serial killer to the authorities, but on the other hand, it made you look less credible as a demon worth running away from.

Sock pondered for a moment. What was scary that he could mimic?

Sock held his arms up and folded them like a dinosaur.

Why not? Dinosaurs, according to Sock’s logic, were scary.

Sock opened his mouth to display his sharp demon teeth. Teeth? Check. He felt like he was making good progress. After all, all dinosaurs had sharp teeth (except the ones that didn’t, but Sock’s knowledge on dinosaurs was fairly limited).

Sock began to make dinosaur noises. “Rawr...Rawr. Rawr!” He tried to make his hands like claws.

He smiled at himself, falling back to his relaxed stance. He felt ready now.

With a determined look on his face, Sock skimmed up to Jonathan’s room again.

Jon was hunched over at his desk, working on what looked like homework. His back was facing Sock.

Sock stalked up behind Jonathan.

When he got close enough, Sock yelled and made a face, showing his teeth and holding his arms like a land reptile from the Mesozoic Era.

“Rawr!”

Jonathan turned around.

...

Sock walked into the sterile-white office.

Mephistopheles was at his desk with a stack of paperwork that literally went up to the ceiling. A step ladder had been placed next to it, and Sock stood there wondering what would happen if the office’s portable fan suddenly turned on. Mephistopheles stopped busily writing and smiled at Sock.

“Hey Sock,” he said. “How’s the job? Is he still making passes at you?”

“Well, i-it’s going well. Been telling him to go ‘do it’...”

“Shuffle off his mortal coil?” grinned Sock’s employer.

“Yeah.”

Pause. And it was a very long, very awkward pause.

Somewhere, a clock was ticking. It seemed to Sock that the ticking sounded uneven, like one tick would count a second three times longer than the tock before. But then, this was an office in Hell, and maybe demons had decided that seconds were just too slow, or too fast, and how’s about a clock that can do a minute in twenty seconds? Or eighty-five seconds? That way, they could get more, or less, hours in a day than the land of living.

Or maybe, thought Sock, Mephistopheles was just really, really bad at managing time. Or even figuring out how it worked exactly.

The pause was still going, so Sock broke it with, “You... couldn’t lend me thirty dollars, could you?”

Mephistopheles stared at Sock.

“Oh, cripes. You didn’t.”

He didn’t even need to ask what the thirty dollars were for. He could tell from Sock’s expression what had happened. The defeated look. The drooping head. The disappointment in his eyes.

“Yup, I did. Sorry...” Then Sock paused for a moment. “I’m not going to get _fired,_ am I?”

Mephistopheles’ face softened. “No. Don’t sweat it, Socks. It was _a little_ bit my fault. I should have told you about the whole ‘demon deals’ thing. I’ve just been so busy. You’ve still got your job.”

“Thanks. And if you want, I’ll pay you back sometime-”

“Oh, no, no, no-- you’re paying for it. All of it. Whatever the bet was, you still lost. So you’ll need to pay him.”

Sock didn’t like the sound of this.

“How? Where am I going to earn the money from?”

“Well,” said Mephistopheles, pondering for a moment with a hand to his chin, “Death and three of his colleagues have been looking for someone who can temporarily muck out their horses’ stables. You see, the other person who used to do it-”

“Oh!” beamed Sock. “You mean the Four Horses of the Apoc-”

“Yes, I do. ” Mephistopheles quickly broke in.


	3. Videogame

_“True friends stab you in the front.”_ \- Oscar Wilde

.

“Aw, man! I hate this boss fight!” scowled Jon, releasing his video game controller from his vice-like grip. The, now very familiar, ‘Game over’ cutscene played on the screen in front of him. Jonathan hadn’t played a videogame in a while; certainly never before with Sock in the room. Before, Jon had been too busy trying to study.

Sock had been sitting on the bed, crossed-legged. He had been busily phasing through different objects, experimenting with different ways to play around with objects (he had really enjoyed discovering that he could make lights flicker on and off if he wanted to, but that had quickly lost its novelty).

Sock looked up at Jonathan. “‘Boss fight’? What’s that?”

“It’s the really tough monster you have to fight at the end of a level.”

Sock floated to the floor and sat next to the teen.

“Why get yourself annoyed with a game when you can just kill yourse-” Sock was going to say more, but then his eyes lit up as he registered the word ‘fight’. “Maybe I can help.”

“How?” said Jon. “It’s not like you can play the game with me.”

“Oh, really?” grinned Sock. “I think, with my new powers, I can.”

Earlier, Sock had used his new ability to manifest the fridge, keeping Jonathan from making a sandwich. He ended up accidentally curdling all the milk. He had also used it to manifest Jon’s closet door to keep him from reaching his grey hoodie. It had been quite a morning.

Jonathan looked suspiciously at Sock, wondering what Sock was up to. After all, his job _was_ to convince Jon to kill himself. He must have had an ulterior motive. Maybe Sock wanted to destroy the game console? Or cause a blackout in the house? But wouldn’t he have just _done_ that already?

But then Jonathan looked at Sock’s pleading face for a moment. He decided that Sock honestly wanted to help him win the game. But what did Sock have to gain by helping him?

Jonathan shook his head. Would he ever fully understand Sock?

He reluctantly accepted Sock’s offer.

“Alright, hold on...”

Jonathan rummaged through a box and pulled out a second controller. He plugged it into the game’s box. Multiplayer was automatically turned on with a low ‘blip!’

Sock happily stuck his hands into the game’s controller, until his hands were completely engulfed inside it. Jonathan quickly explained what each button did. After a few tries, he got the hang of moving the dials and buttons.

Jonathan reloaded the game again. The cutscene before the boss fight played. Sock watched.

“Aim for the monster’s eye.” said Jonathan.

The screen glowed with images of a low-res, pixelated game. Made to look 64-bit. Really retro. There was something really nostalgic about it to Sock. Everything was vague. He could use his imagination to figure out what was happening. What the characters looked like. How much blood what being spilt. Sock liked that.

From what Sock could see, the game was set in an old dungeon, and he and Jonathan were people with swords. The monster was large, darkly coloured, and had only one eye.

Jonathan was having fun. He looked over at Sock. He seemed to be really getting into it.

“Why didn’t you know what a boss fight was?” asked Jonathan.

“I didn’t really play video games when I was alive.”

Jonathan glared at him. “Seriously?”

Sock shrugged.

“I just never did. I usually, you know, played outside. My house had a huge backyard,” Sock replied.

He glanced over at Jon, who was, although still listening to Sock, looking at the screen. Jonathan was so involved that his tongue was slightly sticking out in concentration.

Then Sock asked, “Are there games where you can kill _people_? With lots of blood and gore?”

“Yeah, there are,” said Jon, his eyes moving for the screen to look at Sock. “A whole lot in fact.”

Sock’s eyes widened. “ _Really?!”_

Jonathan flinched. It was unnerving to him to see Sock just looking so _happy_ about that.

“Yeah…” frowned Jonathan. “You’d love it.”

They played the video game well into the night. Jonathan and Sock were able to defeat the monster, and collect the treasure. Sock even managed to find a few secret items and passageways that Jonathan would have missed without him.

…

As Jonathan lay in bed, he mulled over things in his head. Sock had long left, but thoughts about him were still in Jon’s mind.

Sock didn’t do anything while he was playing the game. He didn’t cause any trouble. He didn’t try to break the game. Sock just _played_ the game.

So Jonathan came to a conclusion: Sock just wanted to have fun. With him.

Upon this realisation, Jonathan did something he hadn’t done in a long time.

He smiled.


	4. CAUTION

_"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.  
Just walk beside me and be my friend."_ \- Albert Camus

.

As Jonathan began walking home, he decided that today had been okay. Sure, Sock had been annoying him quite a lot today, but he’d been able to tune out of _Cute Homicidal Twink FM_ radio better than usual (turning up his headphones up to full blast was today’s strategy), so things were okay.

That is, things probably would have been okay, if the car hadn’t almost hit him.

It wasn’t a red sports car, or a truck. Just an average car, driven by an average person, which meant something. The driver was looking at a map as Jon passed, and plainly not thinking, ‘mind that pedestrian’ as the car drifted towards Jonathan.

It was a strange moment for Jon. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for a few seconds when he realized the car was coming. It was like watching a film that he had no control over.

But then Jonathan saw Sock on the other side of the road, waving his arms. That was when Jon realized he _did_ have control.

He ran.

Hitting the pavement of the sidewalk, Jon missed the car by the skin of his teeth. After the driver got out and apologized, asking if Jonathan was alright, Jon gave his usual apathetic answer: He was ‘okay’. Though Sock noticed that Jonathan was definitely shaken, despite his attempt to hide it.

The driver drove off, leaving Jonathan and Sock alone once again. Jon continued to walk home.

“You shouldn’t have walked across the road with your headphones on!” yelled Sock.

Jon blinked at Sock. The demon looked genuinely angry.

“I only turned the sound at full blast because you were annoying me,” said Jonathan, pulling off his purple headphones. “And anyway, why would you care? I thought you _wanted_ me to die.”

“It’s my job to get you to kill _yourself_. I can’t do that if you get hit by a car! Or a truck. Or even a giant caterpillar,” Sock began waving a finger at Jonathan. “So you have to be careful!”

The blonde frowned. _So that’s it,_ he thought. _He’s just thinking about his job._

Jonathan wasn’t even sure why he was so upset by that thought.

...

It was past five o’clock when Sock began drifting through the red tunnels of limbo to Mephistopheles’ office.

In the black and red void, one thought kept stirring in his mind: What would have happened if Jonathan was hit by that car? How badly would he have been hurt? Would it have _killed_ him? And if so, what would Sock be able to do?

Nothing, he guessed. But a lot would happen _to_ Sock if he allowed his human target to get killed by a car.

If Jonathan died through non-suicidal means, Sock would get _fired_. And the realization shook him quite a bit.

Napoleon Maxwell stopped in his tracks. The car incident seemed to have happened so randomly, so out of nowhere. What if something else happened?

Sock bit his lip as he pondered. He had spent enough time with Jonathan to know that Jon wasn’t the sort of teen who did particularly dangerous activities. Jon didn’t aspire to become a mountain climber, or a firefighter, or--well, anything really. Which lead to Sock quickly making a mental note to ask Jonathan what career he planned on getting when he got older. Sock was curious.

But anyway, the point was that Jonathan didn’t go looking for trouble.

And yet.

Yet, yet, yet.

_The car incident still happened anyway._

What if Jonathan got into another accident? What if he got ill? What if he was attacked? What if something horrible was happening to Jonathan _right at this moment?_

Red strands of thread from the portals rustled past the ear flaps of his hat, but Sock ignored it. He had to come up with a way of making sure Jonathan didn’t die from any other cause except his own.

After a moment, Sock decided that there was no other choice: He would have to protect Jonathan himself.

Sock spun around and floated back from where he came from. He was going to go back to the land of the living.

...

The speed of time must have moved differently between dimensions, because even though Sock was sure that he couldn’t have been in limbo for more than twenty minutes, the sun had already gone down as if hours had passed.

Sock floated into Jonathan’s room through a closed window. The thought of his human possibly being attacked by someone was still in his mind.

Jonathan was sleeping in his bed. _‘Looks like he’s alright,’_ thought Sock. _‘But… what if he’s having nightmares? And… Oh my gosh, I can’t tell if he’s breathing or not!’_

Jon lay on one side, and the way he looked so peaceful made Sock think it would be a shame to wake him up. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Jonathan! Jonathan! Please wake up!” said Sock in a harsh, low voice. He was practically whisper-yelling.

“Murhurwhurjurs...” said Jonathan. It was meant to be some sort of coherent word, in theory, but all that came out was a tangle of vaguely-human noises.

Sock couldn’t move Jonathan, but he knew from past experience that Jon could feel it when Sock phased through him. A sort of chilling sensation.

Jonathan, apparently feeling the little demon’s hands on his shoulder, sat up groggily. “Wha-What is it?”

After not getting a quick enough answer, Jonathan switched on his bedside lamp. He and Sock squinted as their eyes tried to adjust to the sudden amount of new light.

Sock looked at Jonathan. The human had a dazed-yet-fearful expression, like he was questioning to Sock, ‘ _Is the house on fire? Why am I awake at this ungodly hour?’_

“What is it?” Jon repeated. There was panic in his voice as well.

“Are you all right?” Sock asked as calmly as he could.

“ _What?”_ It wasn’t a panicked ‘What?’, but an _are you kidding me_ ‘what’. Jonathan quickly lowered his voice, realizing he might wake up his mother in the other room.“Do you know what time it is?”

“A little early?” Sock grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah. Very.”

“I’m sorry about waking you,” said Sock. “But I had to find out if you were okay.”

“Of course I’m okay.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

Sock looked like he was just about to leave through the window, but then he turned back to Jonathan.

“You wouldn’t just _say_ you were all right if you didn’t mean it, would you?”

Jonathan’s eyelids went back to their Half-Closed Mode. “Dude, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Just asking.”

Jonathan sighed heavily. He was too tired to argue with Sock. Jonathan switched off his lamp and leaned back onto his pillow.

“Uh, Jonathan...”

There was no reply from the teen.

“Jon-a-than?”

For a second, all Sock could see in front of him was a large, dark object flying through the air towards his face. It harmlessly went through Sock, and softly hit the wall behind him.

Sock looked down and saw that the object was a pillow. Jonathan had thrown it at Sock, and had a second pillow in his hand, ready to toss.

Sock decided it was time to go. He sailed towards the window.

“I’ll let you go back to sleep.” said Sock. “Shh...”

Then he disappeared through the window.

Jonathan looked on at the wall where his demon counterpart had been standing just moments before.

_‘What. The. Hell. Just happened?’_

That was the last thought Jonathan had before falling back to sleep.

...

School wasn’t exactly a change either.

“MIND THE STEP!” yelled Sock.

“Where?!” said Jonathan in a panic, suddenly broken from a daydream.

“You might slip and break something!” said Sock, pointing to the stairs Jonathan was standing at. “Put your hand on the handrail over there--Wait, on second thought, don’t do that, ‘cause it might break loose from the wall. Here, take my arm instead.”

“Will you just leave me alone!”

Jonathan stopped for a second, realising he yelled that way too loudly. People in the hallway were giving him looks.

Jon just wanted to be seen as normal. Average. Okay. Mediocre. And talking to seemingly nothing wasn’t, generally, considered normal.

And now, on top of all that, Sock seemed to have changed his tactics from to telling him to go kill himself, to telling him to not do _anything_.

Everywhere he went, Sock was there to annoy him.

“Do you have a death wish or something?” said Sock, cocking his head to one side to show his puzzlement.

Jonathan looked up from his sandwich, mid-bite. “Huh?”

“Why would you touch all those doorknobs, and then eat a sandwich before washing your hands? What if you got sick and died?”

Jon was hungry. It sounded like his stomach was housing a wolf.

Sock continued. “What kind of sandwich is it? Does it have meat? You sure all the bones have been taken out? What if you choked on the bones?!”

Jonathan began to wish that he didn’t have to ability to see Sock. But at the same time, he didn’t wish that, because if he couldn’t see Sock, then he couldn’t _talk_ to Sock either.

Jonathan stopped and considered this for a moment.

What could he have meant by that last thought? Did he like it--Sock’s presence--just a little bit? Did he kind of _like_ the fact that he had his own personal demon following him around. Wanting his attention. Desperately asking to be his friend.

But then another image of Sock came to his mind: The homicidal Sock. The Sock who liked killing things. The Sock who wanted Jon to take a long walk off a short pier, and preferably drown.

He bit into his sandwich, ignoring Sock’s audible disapproval. Jonathan wondered if he was slowly being driven crazy. Could he really enjoy a demon’s company?

 _No,_ thought Jonathan. _That would be too messed up._

...

And it just didn’t _stop._ Sock just kept on running his little demon mouth...

_“If you just killed yourself, you wouldn’t have to worry about getting into an accident.”_

_“That paper you’re using is highly flammable. So is your desk. Do you know where the fire extinguisher is? Oh, and try not to stand near the other students. They look dry and flammable too.”_

_“Would you watch where you’re walking! This school floor is like a skating rink!”_

_“Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to keep you alive?!”_

Jonathan’s sanity levels were lowering by minute.

He entered the boys’ restroom. He didn’t trust his aim at the moment, so he sat down in one of the restroom stalls instead of using one of the urinals. Sock’s antics had really worn Jon out.

Pulling his pants down, he could see Sock’s nasty clunky brown boots standing just outside the stall, and wondered how long he could take all this madness.

He wondered why Sock was suddenly acting like this. Because if he didn’t get an explanation from Sock soon, he might have to go and beat one out of the him.

...

As Jonathan left the school, Sock was starting to wish that he was able to possess Jonathan. To Sock, things would have been a lot easier if he could.

“Are you sure you should take the bus, Jonathan? What if it crashed into something?”

Jonathan sighed. “You’re dead, so aren’t you the _last_ person I’d ask for safety tips?”

Jonathan slouched next to the bus stop. He wondered how long it would be until five o’clock and Sock would be out of his hair for the rest of the day.

…

And then there was the moment they came back to Jonathan’s house.

“Jonathan, you know there’s a light hanging right above you?” said Sock.

Jonathan was sitting on the floor, trying to read a comic book in his bedroom. He could barely think as Sock stood looming above him.

“Yes, Sock. That’s for when it’s dark.” said Jonathan. He said it in a deadpan tone.

“It could fall and crush you.”

“Not really. It’s hanging from the ceiling.”

“Yes, but hanging from what?”

“It’s _anchored_ to a wooden _beam._ ”

“How do you know that beam hasn’t been eaten away by deadly termites?”

Jon glared at the demon with his mouth open. He was unable to speak for a couple of seconds. “You’re really unbelievable.”

Sock stared at him for a moment.

“You know what your problem is?” said Sock.

“Yes, I know exactly what my problem is. He’s standing in front of me right now.”

Sock pretended he hadn’t heard. Maybe he really hadn’t. “Your problem, Jonathan, is that you’re not careful enough.” He started rotating his head in odd movements, making the ear flaps on his hat waggle a bit. “You go around, not caring about anything. Apathy is bad.”

He looked up at Jon, to see whether he wanted to hear more, but Sock saw that Jon’s eyes had started to glaze over, so he gave the blonde gave a tiny shake of his head.

“Jonathan, you need to decide: Do you want to die in an accident, or do you want to kill yourself and come work with me?”

Jonathan was getting sick to the teeth of all this. He stood up.

“I’ve had enough. Sock, why are you suddenly treating me like I’m going to drop dead at any second?”

“I’m just being… protective.”

“You’re being a nuisance. Why?”

“Alright, I’ll come clean,” said Sock with a shrug. “After the car incident, I’ve realised that until you kill yourself, I need to protect you from dying any other way.”

“I’ve been looking both ways while crossing the road ever since. You’ve noticed that, right?”

“It’s still an object lesson though, isn’t it?” said Sock. “Danger can happen anywhere.”

“So… what?” said Jonathan with wide eyes. “You’re saying I should just stay at home every day?”

“Well...” Sock knew what Jonathan was getting at, but he still felt in the right. “It would be _safer,_ wouldn’t it?”

“Well, guess what?” said Jonathan, starting to suddenly get very angry. “I can’t do that. And the reason why I was almost hit by that car was because I had my headphones turned up full-blast. Because _you_ were bothering me so fucking much. So, if you want me to not get crushed by cars, maybe you should go and get lost,” Jonathan said, sitting back down on the floor.

There was a pause, and Jonathan looked up to see why the other boy was, for once, staying silent.

Sock looked hurt. And suddenly, Jonathan mentally kicked himself for being so harsh to the demon.

“Sorry,” said Sock quietly. “I was just trying to help...”

Jon seemed like he wasn’t showing much interest, and when Sock had finished, Jon sighed. A long, tired, jeez-what-am-I-gonna-do-with-you sort of sigh.

They just looked at each other for a while.

But then Jonathan did something that really surprised Sock. He pulled Sock onto his lap and put his arms around Sock’s neck.

He hugged Sock.

Sock usually felt nothing when he brushed against or phased through Jonathan. But this was different. For the first time, Sock actually _felt_ Jonathan. Felt his grey hoodie, his soft blond hair, his skin as it brushed against his own, even the body heat he was giving off.

Sock nestled into Jonathan, which was also a first-time event. Usually, he’d just go right through Jonathan, but this time, he could lean on him. It was like he had mass and weight, even though he was still a demon.

Heat and warmth seeped through the two of them.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Jonathan mumbled. “I get now why you did it.”

“It’s okay...” Sock replied. He felt so relaxed. “And I won’t mollycoddle you anymore.”

...

After a while, Sock looked around.

“Jonathan?”

Jonathan wasn’t in the room anymore.

Sock wondered what had happened. He was hugging Jonathan just a few minutes ago. Had Sock fallen asleep without realising?

“Jon-a-than?” repeated Sock, though this time he realised his voice sounded a little horse.

Then Sock looked down at his hands.

They weren’t his own.

The fingers were slightly longer and thinner, and their skin tone was lighter. These hands were also connected to a pair of grey sleeves: Jonathan’s hoodie.

Jon’s bathroom door was open. Sock--still unable to convince himself that what was happening was happening--half-wondered if Jonathan was in there.

Walking in, Sock looked around. No one in the bathroom.

But then Sock caught sight of himself in the mirror.

He looked exactly like Jonathan.

Sock tilted his head, studying himself. He brushed a hand through Jonathan’s hair, carding through the locks of Jon’s eighties haircut.

Jonathan’s eyes were staring wide-eyed through the mirror. It looked so different from his usual half-closed lids. His eyes were also Sock’s eye colour. Grass green instead of denim blue.

These eyes looked slightly dead.

Jonathan was also holding his arms the way Sock would: Like little dinosaur arms. On Jon, it looked awkward and made Sock giggle to himself a little. Which made Jon’s image in the mirror giggle, which looked even more awkward.

Sock was really doing it. He had finally possessed Jonathan.

A strange feeling churned round and round his head and body, making him giddy.

But how did he do it, Sock wondered. He threw his mind back to just before he realised he was in Jonathan’s body. Jonathan had hugged him, and that seemed to trigger it.

Why would a hug do that? Wasn’t it supposed to be ‘consent’ that made a human possessable?

Jonathan had shown that he had forgiven Sock, so maybe that was it. Sock made a mental note of this for future reference.

For a brief moment, Sock thought about fetching a knife from the kitchen to stab Jon’s body with, but then realised that it probably wouldn’t have followed the demon-haunting rules.

 _Jonathan has to kill himself willingly and knowingly,_ thought Sock.

His second thought was to fetch a knife to go and stab _someone else_ with it, but then Sock realised that Jonathan might get in trouble if he was caught.

Walking back to Jonathan’s bedroom, Sock felt something in the back of his mind. A thought that wasn’t his own. It was like listening to your favourite music on a radio, but hearing a crossed signal playing something else in the background.

It was Jonathan’s mind.

And it was giving off a single thought: The feeling of sheer, naked panic.

Flinching at the realisation, Sock willed himself out of Jonathan’s body. He stepped out of it, leaving a gasping Jonathan on his hands and knees. He was hacking and coughing, like he had been underwater for a few minutes and had only just been given air.

Jon seemed to remember how to breathe again, and he gulped in a mouthful of air. His breathing was ragged.

Jon was shaking. And it freaked out Sock that Jonathan, the most apathetic person he’d ever met, was _shaking in fear because of him._

Jonathan looked up at the demon.

“Wh-What happened?” asked Jonathan.

Sock raised an eyebrow. Jonathan couldn’t remember him taking over his body?

“I possessed you,” Sock shrugged, hoping that if he made it sound like no big deal, Jon would treat it like it was no big deal. “I finally did it.”

Jonathan went very pale. “Did you do anything?” What he was really asking was, _Did you kill anyone?_

“Well, I went to your bathroom to see myself in the mirror,” said Sock. “But other than that... no.”

Jonathan stood up and looked at him for a moment.

“Thank you.” he said.

Sock was perplexed. “For what?”

“For not murdering anyone.”

And then Jonathan smiled. Because of Sock. Sock had made him smile, and it was a nice feeling for the little demon.

As Jonathan stood there, he realised something: That he now, for the most part anyway, _trusted_ Sock. He knew how much Sock desired killing things, and he repressed all those powerful urges, basically just for Jonathan.

Maybe they _could_ be friends, Jonathan thought to himself.


	5. Test

_“Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.”_ \- Euripides

.

Jonathan got to his desk at the back of the classroom. The back row of desks was good, because it drew less attention to Jonathan.

He yawned. Sock waking Jon up early yesterday (due to Sock’s antics after the car incident), had lead Jon to sleeping extra that night. He was almost late for the school bus, and just barely had time for breakfast.

“Tired?” asked Sock, perched on an empty desk next to Jonathan.

The teen just gave a little nod. He didn’t want to talk to the demon when there were other students in the classroom.

“You sure you don’t want to kill yourself?” asked Sock. “There’s no homework when you’re dead.”

Jonathan didn’t even bother to give a reply to that.

A middle-aged woman, the teacher, stood up to speak. She had a nose like a bird of prey and a voice to match.

“Alright,” she said. “Take everything off your desk, except for a pencil and an eraser, I’ll be handing out the test papers now. You have until the end of class to finish it. No talking.”

Sock glanced cautiously at Jonathan. He could tell from Jonathan’s frowned expression that Jonathan wasn’t prepared.

A paper was handed to Jon. He pulled out a pencil from his schoolbag.

The teacher proceeded to explain the ‘Read this first!’ section at the top of the page, reviewing how to properly tick in the boxes on the handout.

The test was for Social Studies, which was basically Geography. Jonathan always wondered why classes would be renamed like that. As if calling it Social Studies somehow made it any more sophisticated.

“The test will now begin.” said the teacher.

The clock read 2:30. The test would end at three o’clock.

Jonathan felt nervous. What could he do? Cheat? He couldn’t see anyone’s papers. The teacher (who by now had labelled Jon as a troublemaker because of Sock’s antics) was staring him with hawk-like eyes.

_I guess I’ll just try to do my best,_ thought Jonathan.

He started with multiple choice.

…

The clock read 2:35.

“Hey! That’s not the right answer.” said Sock. “I said the answer’s ‘D’ for question five.”

Sock had begun telling Jonathan what other students were writing down. Jon ignored him.

After all, why would Sock help? Having good grades wasn’t going to make Jon want to kill himself.

Sock probably wanted to just messing with him by giving wrong test answers.

Then something in Jonathan’s expression changed. His eyes softened. And he came to a realisation.

He trusted Sock. He _wanted_ to trust Sock.

Jonathan erased his last answer, and changed it to Sock’s.

Jonathan looked up to see Sock give the biggest grin on his face. Jonathan rolled his eyes, but could help smiling a little.

“Great,” said Sock. “And I’m pretty sure the answer for six is B.”

…

2:50 pm.

Jonathan flipped the first page after finishing the multiple choice part. It had taken a lot longer to complete than it usually did. He _really_ didn’t study for this test.

“Write your name at the top of the page.” said Sock.

Jonathan flipped back to the first page. Sock was right: He had forgotten to write his name at the top. That would have given him an instant zero.

Sock watched, feeling rather useless at this point. The rest of the questions were randomised, so Sock couldn’t just tell Jonathan what the other’s students’ answers were: The questions were unique to each student.

Sock tried his best to think up his own answers, but he hadn’t yet taken grade 11 when he was alive.

Then Sock realised why Jonathan was having so much trouble answering the test questions. It was because he hadn’t studied for the test. Because he needed to got to bed early the night before. Because _Sock_ woke him up early.

Suddenly, Sock felt quite guilty.

…

2:55. The clock now seemed to loom over Jonathan.

He began chewing on his pencil. Realizing that he ticked in the wrong box for an answer, he twirled around his pencil in his hand and began erasing it with the rubber. It made a squeaking sound that was surprisingly loud in the quiet room.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a student get up and walk down the aisle. She had finished her test. Then another student got up.

“Sorry I can’t help anymore.” said Sock.

Jonathan just gave a small shrug. _It’s not your fault._

He looked up at the clock. He was running out of time.

2:56.

He only had four minutes left.

He looked back down at the questions. He had finished what he could of the short answer questions and was now working on the long answer questions.

He looked through was he had been able to answer and added up the score in his head. If he was lucky, he could be able to pass the test, but just barely.

Jonathan knew that he’d need extra time. He’d end up as the last remaining person doing the exam. He thought about that hollow feeling of being the last student to finish a test and single-handedly keep the teacher waiting overtime. Jonathan was not looking forward to that.

Then Jonathan read the following:

_In one or two paragraphs each discuss the major and minor industries of America and explain how the climate, natural regions, and natural/extrinsic resources have influenced its development._

He reread the sentence again. And again. What were they even _asking_ for? He wasn’t an idiot. How did test questions do this? Have sentences that were in English, yet made no sense when you read them? Maybe it was just the stress getting to him.

He thought long and hard for a moment, but he didn’t come up with an answer for that question.

The reason he didn’t come up with an answer was because he thoughts were interrupted by eardrum-splitting ringing of incredible intensity. The sound bounced off the floor and ceiling of the classroom and came back twice as strong, numbing the brain and vibrating the eyes.

The fire alarm had gone off.

Jonathan winced and got up out of his chair as the other students did. The teacher told the class to leave the building.

Jonathan was dumbstruck. He just stood there for a moment. This meant that the test would have to be re-done. He’d have extra time to study. This was perfect.

Too perfect.

Jonathan looked around.

Where was Sock?

Walking out of the classroom and into the hallway, Jonathan spotted Sock. Standing innocently next to the fire alarm.

…

Jonathan had taken to writing on his notebook to talk to Sock on the bus. It was less conspicuous to outsiders than just whispering to seemingly no one.

_‘Why did you do that?’_ Jonathan wrote.

“Do what?” asked Sock innocently.

“You know what I mean.” replied Jon. He quickly flinched and looked around. His communications technique was far from being perfect: He sometimes forgot to write his replies instead of saying them out loud.

“What? Pulling the fire alarm? How can you be sure it was me?” Sock said it in an overly-innocent tone. He was enjoying this attention from Jonathan. “I mean, sure, it _could_ have been me, since I can manifest objects now, but...”

Jon just gave him a cold look. He wasn’t even going to bother writing, _‘I know you did it’_. It was just a waste of paper.

Sock shrugged. “Well, why not?”

Jonathan raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He decided to put a raincheck on this conversation until after the bus ride.

...

Walking out of the bus, Jonathan looked up at the demon floating next to him on the sidewalk.

“I don’t get it.” said Jonathan. “You realize you’ve just wasted the time of several firemen? Why would you do all that just so that I wouldn’t fail a test?”

“You call that work?! It was fun and easy! I just stuck my hand into the fire alarm, and ‘click!’ it goes off!”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” said Jonathan.

“You’re not worried about being in trouble, are you? No one could know it was me. What’s the school gonna do? Dust for fingerprints? Call Ghostbusters?”

“You’re still avoiding the question,” replied Jonathan. “Why bother pulling the fire alarm _at all?”_

“Why not?” grinned Sock.

Jonathan put a hand to his brow. Back to square one.

He decided questioning any further was no use. Sock was a free spirit. In every sense of the word.

Then out of nowhere--since Jonathan hadn’t expected a reply--Sock added, “I did it because we’re friends.”

Jonathan didn’t even bother to hesitate when he replied.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I guess we are friends.”


	6. Help

_“Some people care too much… I think it’s called love.”_ \- Winnie the Pooh

.

Jonathan rushed through the front door and slammed it shut behind him. He hurtled straight up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming that door shut behind him as well. Sock followed through.

Jonathan flung his schoolbag next to his desk, and limped across the room to his bathroom.

He peered into the mirror above the sink. A thin ribbon of blood was dripping from his nose, down to his chin, where someone’s fist had smashed into it. He had kept wiping the blood off with the back of his hand throughout the bus ride, but his nose still hadn’t stopped bleeding. As he studied the bruising through the mirror, he could see Sock’s reflection. Jon turned around. Sock was standing behind him, looking upset.

“I thought we agreed,” said Jonathan.“You do not go into this room. This is the bathroom.” That rule had been implemented ever since the shower incident.

He didn’t say it with genuine anger. He was too tired to feel angry. It was a shutting down, giving-up sort of tired.

Sock didn’t seem to be paying attention. He just cautiously asked, “How badly does it hurt?”

“Not that bad. It just looks worse that it feels.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

“Don’t be.” said Jonathan.

Sighing, he reached for the first aid kit in the bathroom’s cupboard. Sock watched. Jon pulled out what looked like a small, opaque-white icicle in a jar. The styptic pencil he used for shaving cuts. Taking it out and running it under cold water, Jonathan ran it across the wound at his nose. He winced. It really stung. But at least it stopped some of the bleeding.

Jon went back to his bedroom, and Sock followed through a wall. Sinking down onto his bed, Jonathan put his headphones on and breathed deeply.

The music came to life, and Jon’s favourite band, Valhalla Soundbox, began to play. Jonathan turned up the volume. Sometimes, if he turned up the volume high enough, he could almost drown out his thoughts. He was hoping that the guitar and lyrics would push out all the insults that were being played in his head from school that day. After a few minutes, it still didn’t work. Even with the bass rumbling through his chest, the insults were still audible in his mind.

Sock was thinking about them too. What did that big guy say after he punched Jon?

_“Meet me after school. You’re dead.”_

It was that that had been placing Sock in a permanent panic-attack mode. Sock was sure that the guy meant serious business. What made it worse was that Jonathan wouldn’t even take it seriously. Sock was worried, while Jonathan was just his usual, apathetic ‘Meh’.

“You’re not going to meet that guy this evening, right?” asked Sock, “After five o’clock, when I’m gone?”

“I already said ‘no’.”

“You wouldn’t just _say_ that, right?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. It sounded too similar to, ‘You wouldn’t say you were all right if you didn’t mean it?’ and Sock promised he wouldn’t ask him that again.

His mother was still at work. But in a few hours, she would come home and ask him to come down to eat diner. He hoped his nose would stop bleeding by then.

He would have to lie about how his day went. He would have to try to make his voice sound as light and as cheerful as possible. And he wasn’t looking forward to that.

Jonathan wiped some of the blood that had trickled down from him nose.

“Have you ever been punched before?” asked Sock.

Jon was silent for a moment, but then said, “Yeah...”

" _What?_ ” said Sock with wide eyes. “When? Where?"

"It's a long story..."

Sock grinned. "I've got an eternity. You've got a nice voice."

Jonathan turned his head to look at Sock.

"Sock, when someone says something's ‘a long story’, it's a polite way of saying they're not going to tell you about it."

There was a pause in the conversation before Sock said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

“You already said that.”

Sock perched on the edge of the bathroom sink, dangling his feet above the ground and swinging them like a child. But then he stopped, and realised something.

_He_ could _help save Jonathan. By possessing him and fighting_ for _him._

Sock thought for a moment. He was able to possess Jonathan only when he hugged Sock. So Sock had to quickly devise a way to get Jonathan to hug him with raising suspicion.

The little demon had to think of something that would earn him sympathy points with Jonathan in short amount of time. If Jonathan felt sorry enough for Sock, he’d give him a hug.

The two of them walked back into Jonathan’s room. The teen knelt down to look for something in his schoolbag.

Sock cleared his throat before starting his plan. “Um… you know… I’ve just been really thinking about my parents lately...”

Jonathan looked up. “You told me you murdered them.”

“By accident. I was just thinking... I love them so much. And now, they’ll probably be in Heaven, right? So I’ll never get to see them again.”

Concern came into Jonathan’s eyes. “Can’t you, I dunno… Arrange some sort of meeting where you can see each other on… some sort of common ground?”

Sock shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s possible...” he said quietly.

Sock looked up at Jonathan, who seemed to genuinely care about what Sock was telling him. The demon felt touched and almost surprised that his problems were of any interest to Jonathan. Sock was beginning to feel guilty for manipulating Jonathan like this, but this was a real emergency.

This was a good start, but what next? What else could he do? What would appeal to Jon’s better nature? Well, Jonathan seemed to disapprove of Sock’s homicidal tendencies. He decided to try using that to his advantage.

“And, it’s not just my parents,” shrugged Sock. “I’m just really upset about killing all the things I’ve killed and even just _thinking_ about killing people in the past.”

Good thing Sock wasn’t hooked up to a lie detector for that one. The needle would have shot up into the next room for a lie-down.

“But it was _your_ choice to murder animals.” said Jonathan, thinking back to all the times Sock mentioned a story about killing a wild animal or someone’s pet. “You told me you _enjoyed_ it.”

Sock lowered his head and closed his eyes in apparent guilt. “Yes, I _did_. For my sins.”

_Wow,_ Jonathan thought. _That was extremely cute. I am a serial killer for my sins. That was rich._

“So, suddenly, you _don’t_ anymore?” Jonathan was confused at this apparent change of character.

“That’s right.”

Jonathan seemed to be at least somewhat buying it, so Sock tried one last resort.

Sock tried to look like he was about to cry. “I’m a bad guy! I don’t know what to do!” he sniffled.

When Jonathan saw the demon with watery eyes, he looked horrified. “Ah, Sock, please, don’t… jeez...” He really wasn’t used to seeing anyone cry.

Sock was pleased with that. He had hoped Jon would react to that.

Jonathan chewed his lip. Sock was looking so pathetic that the blond didn’t have much choice but to believe the little demon.

He came to a decision.

“Just… Come here, Sock.”

He hugged Sock. The same feeling of warmth and feeling occurred in Sock.

They clung to each other, twined together in the embrace, and Sock felt that Jonathan really trusted him. More than the last time they hugged. And there was another pang of guilt in his gut.

Sock thought for a moment. If Jonathan died in non-suicidal means, Sock wouldn’t just be fired. Jonathan would go to Heaven. Jonathan was good. A good, if apathetically-gloomy person. Sock never really thought about it before, but he wouldn’t just be fired from his job.

_He would lose Jonathan forever._

That was why Sock had to do this.

“It’ll be okay, Sock. We’ll figure something out.” said Jonathan, trying to comfort the spirit.

“Yeah. It’ll be okay...” said Sock quietly into Jonathan’s shoulder.

Sock let himself relax into the teen’s arms. He, at this moment in time, felt perfectly contented.

Then Jonathan--or rather, Sock--smiled. It was a slow, creeping, Cheshire Cat grin. He got up, and slowly walked down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen, pulled open a draw, and casually pulled out a knife. The largest one. It was mainly used for cutting vegetables, but Sock had another use for it in mind.

He stuffed the knife in Jon’s school bag, emptying it of textbooks and papers. He flung the bag over his shoulder.

He walked out the front door. Just an ordinary teenager with a school rucksack taking an ordinary evening stroll. That’s what it would look like to any passerby.

He could feel something of Jonathan in the back of his mind. The feeling of fear again.

Sock pushed the thought back. He was doing this _for_ Jonathan. If he could get rid of this attacker at school for Jonathan, Jon wouldn’t be in danger, Sock’s job wouldn’t be in danger, and it would give Sock a chance to walk around like a living human again. What more could either of them hope for?

Besides... This was going to be fun.

.

_“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”_ \- Proverb

End.

 


End file.
